


holding a heart here in my hand

by katsumi



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsumi/pseuds/katsumi
Summary: Jyn kisses Cassian for the first time when she thinks they’re about to die. But then, they don’t die.





	holding a heart here in my hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mollivanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/gifts).



> Smut take two. And what better smut is there than _I thought we were about do die_ smut? Set post-movie in that happy AU world where everyone's alive.

The first time she kisses him, it’s almost the last time.

They’re crammed into the hull of a ship spiraling out of control, the sound of Bodhi screaming into the commlink a distant echo against the screech of metal, and Jyn’s entire spine is numb with realization, anticipation. Cassian turns to her with wide, desperate eyes, and she’s already lunging forward.

She’s already almost died in his arms. If it’s going to happen again, she’s going to do it right this time.

It’s a rough, frantic thing—the blood on his lips is sour on her tongue. There’s no time to gauge his reaction because the ship suddenly careens forward, finally making that long sought-after jump to hyperspace, and the force of it slams them both to the floor.

She’s still jittery when they get back to Hoth, shaking as though the ship’s still spinning even after they touch the ground. The only thing steadying her is Cassian’s presence at her side.

They’ve barely checked back in before her fingers have found his wrist and she’s tugging him down the windy halls of Echo Base. He follows—clearly confused, but still, he follows. She knew he would.

There’s a moment, after she’s led them into her room and the door’s closed behind her, when it’s silent—all she can hear is the thump of her own heart against her ribs. She drops his wrist.

Then she pushes herself to the balls of her feet, slides her hands into his hair, and kisses him.

He gasps beneath her, stumbling back a few steps. But his hands fly up to her shoulders, to her cheeks, and she can’t help but press further, kiss deeper, push and push until his back is up against the wall.

“Jyn.” It’s a mumble, a breath. She doesn’t let up long enough to allow for more than that. Her skin is scorched where it touches his; she bites his lip, and her whole body hums to life.

She tugs at the collar of his shirt and he groans, pulling back so quickly that his head slams against the wall.

“Jyn, are you okay?”

His eyes are wide, lips parted and wet. This isn’t the first time she’s thought about kissing those lips, of course it isn’t. But now that she’s actually done it, she sure as hell doesn’t want to stop.

“Fine,” she says, tugging his shirt until it opens. She slips her fingers beneath the fabric, against the bare skin of his stomach, and he shudders.

“Jyn—”

“I’m fine.” He’s still clutching her face in his hands, preventing her from leaning forward to kiss him again. So she scrapes her nails up his sides, offers him a quick, twitching smile. “Could be more fine, if you would just let me—”

He closes his eyes, tight, like he’s taking a moment to collect himself.

“I’m just—” he starts, swallows. “I just want to make sure—”

She slides her hands up to his chest, and she can feel his heartbeat—fast, dizzying—under her palm. He opens his eyes, and even in the shadows—she’d never turned on the light—she can see that his pupils are blown.

“You kissed me,” he says, like he’s in awe. “Before, on the ship. You kissed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees.

He bites his lip. “Why?”

Jyn offers a little half-shrug, just one shoulder. “It seemed like it was the last chance.”

Realization dawns, spreading slow across his face.

“It, err—” She takes a breath. “It wasn’t the last chance, though. Right?”

He’s kissing her almost before she finishes the sentence, pulling her back to him. She bites at his lip, clutches his chest, scrambling to push the fabric of his shirt as far to the side as possible. She feels his hand slip under her clothes, his palm splayed against her lower back, and she can’t take it; she lowers and bites his jaw, then his neck, until she’s sucking a mark into the skin of his chest, just above his heart.

“Jyn,” Cassian starts, breathless, likely about to say something stupid. “You don’t have to—”

“Shut up.” When she bites down, light, he makes a noise she’d go into battle to hear again. She’s scrambling for his belt buckle before she even knows what she’s doing, pushing his pants a few inches down his hips, and then she’s curling her palm around the hard heat of him, relishing the way he jerks at the touch.

“Fuck. Jyn, I—”

She gives one slow, experimental stroke, and whatever words were in his throat come out a low whine.

“Fuck,” he manages.

In normal circumstances, she might go slow—take her time, savor it, play with the angles and categorize every little hitch of his breath, store all that valuable information away. And technically, she has the time. They didn’t die today. Chances are good they won’t die in the next few hours. They have time.

But she’s too impatient to dwell on anything outside of this moment. It’s been so many months since she’s wanted this—even more since she’s wanted _him_ , in whatever capacity he’d take her—that she can’t bring herself to slow down. She just needs _more_.

_Later_ , whispers some tantalizing voice at the back of her mind. _You’ll have time later._

He’s too tall for her to kiss on the lips and pay any mind to the task at hand (pun perhaps intended). So she settles for swiping her tongue along the side of his throat, finding a sweet spot to suckle as she strokes him, firm and wanting, rougher than he’d probably prefer. But what with the way he’s shaking against the wall—his labored breath, the clench of his teeth, whispered murmurs of _fuck, Jyn, oh fuck_ —she can only assume he doesn’t mind.

One of his hands tangles tight in her hair, the other attempting to rub circles against her lower back that are growing less and less neat the closer he gets to the edge. She wants so badly to see him come apart in her hands, to kiss relief into all those places war has made tight and harsh and unyielding.

She pulls back from his neck just in time to see his eyes slam shut. He comes with a harsh, barely-muffled groan, and it’s just as beautiful as she imagined it would be.

After a moment, his eyes flutter open. He looks down at her like she’s something bright, something out of a dream. And Jyn realizes she has no idea what to say in this moment. She doesn’t particularly want to say _anything_ ; she thinks she’s made her intentions rather clear. If he turns this into a meaningful conversation—here, now, with her hand still down his trousers—she might lose it.

But he just leans forward, brushes his lips against her forehead.

“Jyn.” His voice is soft. The hand on her back inches up her spine, rucking up her shirt. “I’m going to touch you, now. Okay?”

Jyn almost snorts. In her experience, this isn’t the kind of thing men announce; the invitation is generally considered open unless explicitly shut down.

But Cassian waits, quiet, thumb stroking a gentle line behind her ear.

She swallows.

“Yeah,” she whispers—for some reason, her voice is thick. “Okay.”

He kisses her forehead, then her nose, then her lips—deep, wet, with such feeling that Jyn’s knees almost buckle. When he pushes forward, she let him, and they stumble back across the room. Her heart seizes a bit when she sees the bed out of the corner of her eye, suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect of all the nakedness and vulnerability that comes with moments such as this.

But he must notice her hesitation because he steers her towards the chair instead, sitting and pulling her firmly onto his lap so that she’s straddling his legs, pressed flush against his chest. With some difficulty—he seems reluctant to pull away from her lips long enough to concentrate—he manages to unfasten her pants and snake a hand between them.

She’s shuddering as soon as his fingers curl down beneath the hem of her underwear, tracing agonizingly soft circles against her. It’s too much and not enough all at once. His tongue is hot on hers, and he chuckles deep in his throat as she desperately ruts against him.

The circles grow tighter and pressure mounts in her thighs, so sharp that she has to tear away from his lips and bury her face into his shoulder. She scrunches her eyes closed, hissing as warmth spirals across her core, and she can hear Cassian’s voice by her ear: _come on, Jyn, come on, come for me._

She bites his neck when she does come, shuddering around his fingers, sinking her teeth in with enough force that she knows she’ll leave a mark.

When she pulls her head from his shoulder, he’s smiling up at her, all tired and gentle, with his mussed up hair and swollen lips. That feeling that’s crackling in her chest has to be joy—pure, unmitigated joy. It’s a feeling she hasn’t experienced in a long, long time.

She rests her forehead against his. “Do you have somewhere you’re supposed to be?”

He traces a smooth line down her spine.

“Here,” he murmurs.

She laughs, closing her eyes. “There are no meetings you’re supposed to be in?”

“I have a few hours.”

“And how were you planning to spend them?”

His palm spreads warm and comforting along her back.

“I was thinking we could nap,” he offers.

She grins. “I do happen to have a bed just over there that would probably fit us both.”

“Is that an invitation?”

"More like a demand."

He leans forward to kiss her, soft.

"Good."

**Author's Note:**

> [leralynne](http://leralynne.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want to come over and say hi! :)


End file.
